Aftermath
by GreenReticule
Summary: The meeting with General Bryce did not return favorably. AU ending of Grill. Usual Disclaimer: Hasbro owns Transformers
1. Chapter 1

The proximity alert announced the arrival of a helicopter. Agent William Fowler's visits to Autobot Outpost Omega One were not rare enough, nor consistently pleasant enough, to garner the attention it did in that moment. Arcee stopped her pacing, a hand slowly clenching at her side. Bulkhead, to the relief of all, folded his maces into his arms once more, giving the wall respite from his blows. Ratchet and Optimus looked up from their places at the command center and the video game fell silent as the focus of the three children and the Autobot scout shifted. No word was spoken, no breath, collective or otherwise, taken, no gear turned. All eyes and optics focused on a single door. The elevator's grinding came to a stop, the door sliding open.

"Prime!"

A common shout from Fowler, sometimes reaching the inflection of an expletive. Now it was a broken cry, choking the federal agent as it left his throat. Optimus' optics switched from concern to concern. Defensive suspicion still gleamed in the edges of the blue, but he stepped forward to ensure the human's wellbeing, "Agent Fowler, are you - "

"Get out, Prime! All of you!" Fowler threw a backhand wildly through the air. "Get yourself and your team through that groundbridge! We'll cover your tracks!"

He began charging his way towards the human aspect of the command center. "Raf, I'll need your help to clear the joint of information, including that blasted black box!"

Still holding the controller in his hand, Raf glanced bewilderedly to all the faces around him. Not even Miko had a clear response for him. Instinctively he reached out to grasp one of Bumblebee's fingers, latching onto the one security he knew. The scout tried to work up a beep of comfort, but found nothing; his voicebox refused to cooperate even to that end.

A great hand checked Fowler's charge. In response the man turned to glare up at Optimus, "Why are you still here? Go!"

He made another lunge towards his destination. Optimus decided to become more direct. With a sweep he had caught Fowler at the back of the knees and carried him up beyond a safe jumping distance. Never one to be found sitting on the job while conscious and lucid, Fowler stood, and, despite the obvious discomfort he had, met Optimus Prime's gaze squarely. The blue optics had again shifted in their concern. The defensive suspicion had overridden the unnecessary care for Fowler's health, but it had returned without the hope it had carried in the moments before the federal agent's arrival.

"What happened, Agent Fowler?"

"The military tribunal was a bust, Prime!"

Jack unconsciously rose and moved towards Arcee, almost defensively. Likewise, Raf's grip tightened. Miko's voice was still caught in her throat; she wildly glanced between Bulkhead and Fowler, fists clenched as anger began to boil.

"They didn't listen to a word I said," Fowler continued thrusting his face towards Prime's, "and they are on their way here to eliminate anything they perceive as a threat!"

"Let them come!" Bulkhead pounded a fist into his palm. At that Miko sprang upwards, landing in a boxing position.

"And inflict human casualties?" Optimus' voice carried the expected tone of disapproval, but beneath it Ratchet barely caught the sound of indecision. Was the Prime actually considering Bulkhead's thoughts? Ratchet couldn't blame him. They had already sacrificed so much in protecting this planet, and Prime had mentioned more than once that he refused to loose another member of the team. The medic was not the only one who caught the undertone. All eyes locked on Optimus and for a brief moment Fowler could have sworn he saw a flash of red within the aged and jaded optics.

Those same optics closed and reopened a bright blue, "I cannot condone such actions."

Miko gave a growl of frustration, "That's not fair! You guys are nearly killed everyday for them! You should be able to fight back!"

"Sure, that will give us a great reputation with the military," despite the sarcasm, it was clear that Arcee did not wholly disagree with Miko, but she turned to face Optimus, "What's the plan?"

Another pregnant pause. Optimus bowed his head, and with that motion all hearts and sparks were gripped by cold. When he spoke again, his voice was firm, but sad.

"We follow Agent Fowler's lead."

He returned the man to the walkway by the command center, "Rafael, please help him."

Bumblebee's hand, which Raf gripped so tightly, shifted to make a seat for the him. One little beep made it's way to the boy. Only half a word. Bumblebee carried him to where Agent Fowler stood.

"Optimus, what can we do?"

Jack was as close to Arcee as he could get on the walkway, and the motorcycle had unconsciously moved as close to him. The Prime met Jack's eyes, searching the boy. His response was slow enough to allow Miko time to find her tongue.

"Duh! The Autobots can hide with us!" She sprang next to Jack, leaning on the railing. "They've already been doing it for a year…"

Her voice trailed off as Optimus turned his gaze to her. Her fingers wrapped themselves around the railing in desperation, "…right?"

"I am sorry, Miko. It is too dangerous for both yourselves and the Autobots. Jasper is certainly one of the first places they will search for us. If you are found harboring even one Autobot…"

"Not to mention that the government is aware that civilians are involved," Fowler added from the command center. He gave a self-chastising sigh. "I let something slip."

Again a silence fell, and again it was broken by Optimus, "Jack, in response to your question, you all have done much already. I cannot ask any more. Autobots, you have five minutes."

Throwing herself back from the railing, Miko sprinted towards the steps, towards Bulkhead. Even as he typed away at the computer, erasing every area of evidence, Raf's hand found Bumblebee's once again. Ratchet, at his own station, found himself regarding the duo with a breaking spark. Jack and Arcee likewise found each other. Yet no one could find anything to say.

Optimus turned towards the entrance to the command center, his footfalls heavier than usual. A raging turmoil battled in his spark as his steps lead him away from the others. Sorrow swelled up in him, but another met it equally. Anger. Against the military. Against MECH. Against himself. His head told him that he could have done nothing more. His spark clung to the guilt, pulling his mind through his actions in every and any situation. Ruthless, brutal actions he might have done to protect his family.

His hand found the place in his side where Silas had run him through.

_The key difference between you and me? My body can't feel pain!_

Optimus stopped in his steps, having found the device he was looking for. He knelt down, resting one hand on the black box. Irrationality seized his mind. This small device contained the back up of every sight and sound in the silo. It held Fowler's rants, June's lectures. The children's voices. Rationality came back in. He couldn't keep it. If he brought the box away and Megatron somehow captured it…

_It seems I've swatted a bee and squashed a bug!_

_They're children, Optimus. They should be worried about grades, prom, pimples! Not their own survival._

Blue optics shut, and only when control was regained over his emotions did they open. He rose, black box in palm, and returned to the others.

Arcee and Jack were sitting next to each other, his hand on her knee. They weren't saying anything, just sitting. Keeping the last few moments precious. Optimus could all but see Arcee's spark falling apart. She lifted one hand to rest on Jack's shoulders, trying to protect him one last time. He reached up with his other hand and touched it. They turned to look at each other, broken smiles trying to find their way. He had watched her leave through the bridge before, sometimes never sure if she'd come back. But it was different. Then it was as if he watched his sister march off to war and certain pride would fill him; he knew what she was fighting for. This? Nothing could come close.

A brief memory crossed his mind as if in contradiction to his thoughts. A man's back as he left the house, driving away without a single glance. His mother's face both sorrowful and wrathful at the same time.

Jack looked away, teeth clenching as he tried to disassociate Arcee from that moment. Her fingers tightened around him, worried.

Bulkhead had Miko in his palm. The disbelief had finally cracked and words were pouring out of the girl as the Wrecker held her gently to his chest. Apologies for all her reckless moments and advice for finding decent radio stations with Slash Monkey were certainly a part of her words but far from the majority.

"I will never ever forget you. Don't forget me, okay? You almost did once, because I was stupid, but I won't ever do that again. I won't ever have the chance to!" She tried to laugh, but it got caught in a choke and she collapsed against his chest. She sat sobbing for a few moments, her hands grasping at the odd angles of his metal.

"I won't forget you."

She looked up at the soft tone, a small smile spreading across her face even as tears traced the dimples in her cheeks. Bulkhead gave a smile to match, "Besides, you hurled on my floor mats and I don't think that will ever go away!"

They broke into laughter as one and Bulkhead's spark swelled at this child, this sparkling of his. He brushed her hair lightly away from her face, his large finger surprisingly delicate, "Miko, I love you."

She buried her face against him again, "I love you too."

Raf and Bumblebee had also found their voices, and were together plotting fantasies of how they could meet again, including the popular "Dig to China" route. In the light of what was actually at the center of the Earth, this particular idea was abandoned even within their ridiculous plans. Eventually the scheming, which would have put a certain Seeker to shame, faded away. Raf began tearing, and as he lifted his glasses to wipe them away, one of 'Bee's fingers reached out to catch the drops. A beep, long and low accompanied two smiles. Ratchet, who watched from the side, suddenly shuddered. No faces that young should ever have smiles that old.

It became even worse when the boy's smile was directed at him. Ratchet thought he would break when Raf, still holding Bee's finger, reached out his own hand to the medic. Instead he stepped forward and soon the boy was holding both their hands, tightly. For a moment they stood, just the three of them, until Raf caught a glimpse of Fowler standing alone. Raf began to wave the agent into their group, but Fowler raised his hands, "This is your time with the 'Bots, son."

"Rafael," Ratchet's voice brought the boy's attention to the old optics. "Thank you."

As Bumblebee echoed the sentiment, Raf clutched tighter at the fingers and his knees grew weak. Soon the two Bots, the oldest and the youngest, were holding him up together, like they had always done.

The proximity alert binged again, causing everyone to start. Optimus let the black box fall from his hand as it rapidly transformed into an energon blaster. Fowler hit a single command button. The ignition of the groundbridge was as swift as the destruction of the box.

"Autobots!"

At their leaders call, they left behind their human companions. The children gathered at the entrance to the portal. Arcee and Jack met eyes and optics once more. She gave him a wink, "See you around, partner."

He gave a wink back, but as she turned her back, his heart froze. Before stepping though the groundbridge, she looked over her shoulder once more. Then with a flash of green she was gone.

Bulkhead, Bumblebee, Ratchet, all followed closely. Optimus glanced down, "Jack, Miko, Raf, Agent -"

"It's Bill, Optimus," Fowler had his hands around the children's shoulders.

"… Bill. We… _I_… will miss you all."

Then he too was gone. The green light of the groundbridge vanished.

"Time to get you kids out of here."

Fowler ran to the control center again, typed in a new set of coordinates and the green light returned. Miko glanced up at the walkway, the urge to run up and hug the man only stopped by Jack's hand at her elbow.

"Thank you… Bill," Jack said. A meager gift, yet heartfelt. The kids turned and ran down the path to the portal.

The elevator door sprang open, the children vanished, the groundbridge faded, and Fowler deleted the last sets of coordinates.

He looked up from the computer to face General Bryce's shocked stare.

There was a grinding of gears and a roar of engines as tanks, armored vehicles, and military transports poured in from the entrance. Bill looked around at the troops then up to Bryce once more, who was approaching him, his shock turning to fury. That was just fine. Bill had his own fury that surpassed the general's. Bryce opened his mouth into a reprimand, but all the air was forced out of him as Bill grabbed him by the medaled shoulders and threw him against the computers, a fist pulling back to strike even harder than when he hit Silas.

A voice stopped him.

_I cannot condone such actions._

The former agent's glare transformed. His grip on the general's collar loosed and his fist dropped to his side. Bill laughed. When the troops came to take him, he was still laughing.

**(0 days since incident)**


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N Thanks for the views and support! No promises on consistent updates. Sorry. :(_

* * *

**(2 days since incident)**

"Keep your footing!"

The order came even as jet trooper 67-V4 staggered beneath the blow and collapsed onto his back. Pride within twitched, wounded, as his opponent took a step back and allowed him to rise once more. 67-V4 did, thought apprehensively, and once he was sound of footing, the other charged him. Fright spiked within, but 67-V4 kept his heels locked to the floor and threw up an arm to block the descending fist. Had not his opponent rescinded a portion of his strength at the last moment, the strike surely would have destroyed his arm. As it was, it sent 67-V4 to his knees, bent the metal in his forearm, and embedded his own claws into his chest, just beneath the Decepticon insignia. He shook a little at the energon that bled down his hand. Another set of claws pulled them out, not bothering to be gentle, but not intending to be cruel.

"Keeping your foot is not the same as standing your ground, trooper. I am larger than you. Such a strategy is foolishness."

Under the scrutiny of his fellow troopers who watched from the side, 67-V4 stood, feeling his pride snap at him a second time. He looked up at his opponent, "I understand, Commander."

"Good," Dreadwing gesture towards the wall, "Join the others."

As 67-V4 did so, marching with his back straight to conceal his embarrassment, the Commander barked out, "Next!"

A new voice stalled any movement, powerful enough that even the conversational tone caught all the audio receptors in the room, "That will have to wait, Commander. Vehicons, return to your posts."

Dreadwing turned, hearing the troops behind him hurry to follow orders, and gave one last one of his own, "67-V4, report to Knock Out before returning to duty."

He watched the trooper straighten up once more and shove through the crowd of his fellow soldiers. The jet had been the only one injured in the training today and seemed far from pleased. But Dreadwing was not one to pander to pride.

"Overriding my orders, Dreadwing?" The tone was still conversational.

The seeker was now fully facing Megatron; the Decepticon Lord raised a quizzical optic brow, "Not your usual style." _Disobeying them, perhaps._

"My apologies, my liege," it was said without fear, but with sincerity. Megatron had grown to appreciate that. "However, the trooper will no doubt perform his duties in a more qualified manner if he has had medical attention first."

"Just as the troopers will no doubt perform against the Autobots in a more qualified manner, if they have this training time you have requested?" Megatron had turned away to begin walking, dipping his shoulder in such a manner as to invite Dreadwing to walk beside him. The seeker took it graciously.

"As you have not doubt noticed, Lord Megatron, our troopers have had a steady decline in their competence. Not even the squadron I brought to your aid in the mine could survive against three Autobots, let alone overtake them."

Megatron fell silent. Dreadwing noticed his optics narrow, not focusing on anything in front of him. The seeker could easily guess what was on his lord's mind: a charged blaster and bright blue optics turning hard and cold. That was not the Prime Dreadwing had heard tales about, and it was not the Prime who had confronted him when he had first arrived on this planet. Only on Dreadwing's word of honor had the Autobot backed down. At least that much of the Prime was true, even if his reputable mercy was revealed to be lacking.

"Yes, that is true."

Megatron's sudden comment made Dreadwing realize that he too had been caught up in the past. For a moment he thought the Decepticon Lord was responding to his thoughts on the mercy of Prime. He let his optics shutter once to bring himself fully back to the present, but Megatron's next words caused Dreadwing to wonder if indeed he had voiced his thoughts.

"Optimus has grown rather…" Megatron paused, almost smiling as he continued, "…_ruthless_ lately. Our troops were never quite a match for him before, but the occasional shot would make its way in."

His voice trailed off once more, and after a moment the smile became fully fledged, and he allowed himself a small chuckle. It was almost a kindly sound. The moment and the smile passed and Megatron returned to the conversation at hand, "You may continue training the troops, Commander, until I see otherwise fit. But as of this moment, I see an outlet to test your efforts."

* * *

Not much was known about Megatron's communication officer. Despite rumors of a past in the gladiator pits where the Decepticon Lord himself had honed his skills, only two things were truly known about Soundwave. He was exceedingly loyal to Megatron, and exceedingly competent. And that was all that anyone needed to know to be wary of him. The only two mechs on the _Nemesis_ that were not stepped onto the ship's bridge, their optics immediately drawn to Soundwave's latest accomplishment. Orion Pax may have only completed three coordinate sets from the Iacon database, but he had not halted work completely after Starscream's visit, and thus the beginnings of a fourth were available to the use of any resourceful mech. Crosschecking latitudes and longitudes and a certain amount of creative research had caused the partial coordinates to yield fruit.

Dreadwing close behind, Megatron approached the control panel where Soundwave stepped aside to give them a view. Before was a latitude and longitude that was familiar to Megatron, not far from a particular ND-7. The unminable energon source that Starscream had attempted to melt his way to had a back door.

Megatron smiled; this time the expression was one common to his features, "Once again Soundwave, you fail to disappoint."

There was no response, and Megatron hadn't expected any.

Dreadwing stepped back from the control panel, "The Iacon Database was not purely relics."

"So it appears," Megatron likewise shifted his attention. "It is fortunate that Optimus is not aware of the partial coordinates he supplied. They are likely far more desperate for energon than we are, and probably would have attempted to retrieve some already. As it stands, we may take our time getting around to it."

He did not need to glance towards his first lieutenant to know the mech was paying him full due attention. He continued, "But once we do begin mining, the Autobots will be upon us swiftly. I doubt they have ceased surveillance on the area since Starscream's bungle."

Dreadwing, already at attention, stood a little straighter when Megatron began to address him directly, "Were this some Autobot relic or Decepticon weapon, I would not hesitate to send in any number of forces required. However, as this is an energon source, I wish to access its resources with less… _detrimental_ results to our own. Which is where your training comes in."

"My liege," Dreadwing cupped a hand over his chest, "I live to serve you, as do your troops. But they are not yet trained to the point of ensuring victory without the cost you wish to avoid."

"I am aware of that, Dreadwing. As I said, we are not desperate for energon just yet and therefore it is not necessary to strike at this moment. You have time to improve your trainees."

Megatron turned back to the panel, hands held loosely together behind his back, "I will be expecting results."

"You will have them, my liege," the first lieutenant bowed and turned to leave. Soundwave sidestepped to let him pass, the only acknowledgement that he gave the seeker. Dreading was not offended and offered no acknowledgement of his own. Already his mind was turning over and analyzing a new training regime for the troops. The door to the bridge shuttered open and he stepped out.

Upon his departure, Megatron glanced towards Soundwave, "What was it that our dearly departed Starscream once said?"

"_Megatron's greatest mistake was ever allowing you to live, Prime!"_

He allowed himself another chuckle, "Starscream always did think too small. There will be little pleasure in simply killing Optimus."

Cold blue optics flashed in his minds eye.

"I may await that day with anticipation, but I will break him first."

* * *

_It was a terrible cry. No words. No attempt to even form them. Just one long wail of pain and horror. His feet tore at the ground, his footfalls lost to the sound of terror that dove into the depths of his soul._

_ The grey beast continued tearing at the pathetic form in front of it, even as the poor creature tried to fight back, tried to escape. Fog closed in around him, around the predator and prey. All he could see was claws and blood._

_ He howled, he roared, and still the beast did not cease its attack. The wail had sunk to a quivering whimper, and that too was dying. He ran on, always approaching, never reaching. He howled in rage again and at last the beast turned to him, and smiled. Blood flecked its jaws and with a single horrid laugh, it fled into the mist._

_ He reached the other at last, but saw only death. He collapsed to his knees and pulled the victim to his chest, cradling the head. A new wail was born as he threw his head back and the sound of rage and pain tore from the depths of his soul._


	3. Chapter 3

**(7 days since incident)**

The desk was a light color, wood patterned but clearly plastic to the touch. Grooves had been sliced, gouged, and scraped into the surface by bored and distracted students. Jack picked at these, staring at what would be his desk for the coming school year, his junior year. Pressure built up in his chest and he gave a sigh, hoping to release some of it into the air. It didn't help. The corner of his eye caught the movement of someone taking the seat next to him. For a crazy moment he thought it was Arcee, and wondered what she was doing in the school. Then she turned into his father. He shook the thought away as fast as he could and turned to greet the newcomer. It was Sierra; her eyebrows were coming together in worried curiosity.

Jack lifted his hand from the desk briefly to wave, "Hi."

"Hi," she fiddled with a pencil for a moment, "Are you okay?"

"Huh?" Being noncommittal. Best way to hide your feelings. Either that or a faceplate.

"You seem…" Sierra paused as Jack turned away from her, hand coming up to his forehead to hide his eyes.

"… distracted."

Twice, Jack tried to turn around to hold an actual conversation, but the pressure in his chest was forcing his eyes to water. Before his third attempt, he forced himself to breathe slowly.

A hand reached up and squeezed his shoulder, worried. Finally he turned back to Sierra, well aware of his red eyes. She gave a start at the sight and Jack had to hold back an unexpected laugh, keeping his amusement to a small smile, "It's just been a hard week."

"Right before school? Ouch."

Emotions built up, but he shoved them into a shrug, "Nothing I haven't dealt with before."

The words came out unchecked, leaving a bad taste in his mouth. He focused on his desk again.

"Well, let me know if I can do anything to help."

He looked back to Sierra as she was looking towards the chalkboard.

"That is, unless your 'mom' is helping," Her sincere offer took a sharp turn into... anger? Disappointment?

"What?" Jack's confusion was not far from its resolution as he recalled the day Arcee swung right into the middle of their conversation to retrieve him from work.

"Oh, no. That…" Jack glanced away again, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. "… that actually wasn't my mom."

Sierra's eyebrow rose. It was the sarcastic expression of "Oh really?" with a side of "I'm not stupid."

He winced. Taking a breath, he said, "She was a family friend. Well, just family, really. She gave me the motorcycle."

That too came out unchecked.

The bell for class rang, saving him from further conversation.

* * *

The table was black, thick and wood. The plastic cover did little to protect it from those bored and prying pens of the students, and it certainly had not chance against the wrath of Miko. It wasn't a doodle, or a sketch, it was just furious jabs and scores against the desk. The students, sitting to either side of her, were slowly inching away. The more timid sophmores were already afraid of the Japanese exchange student, but the rest were beginning to become concerned with her visa being cleared for another year.

The door to the classroom opened, and a rock with legs entered. Miko withdrew the pen into her hand and slapped a notebook over her vandalism. The teacher staggered beneath the boulder before letting in fall to the floor.

* * *

Dust rained down on the students in 103. Jack and Sierra both coughed and sneezed. The teacher glared first at her ruined trigonometry equation, a neat combination of sines, cosines, and tangents stained with a jagged line of chalk turning thetas into phis. Her glare rapidly transferred to the ceiling.

* * *

In 203 the teacher smacked his hands together with a self-satisfied smile, "Now, I hope that woke everyone up."

From her place in the back row, Miko was tempted to feign sleep.

"Quite the specimen, isn't it. Now I retrieved this from a site up in Montana, when I went on an excavation. Now, this rock wasn't in the ground; it actually seemed to have been carried to its place. Now, are there any ideas of how?"

A hand from a boy in the first row. Miko rolled her eyes, and set her pen to her notebook. If she didn't do something, sleep wouldn't be merely something she felt like feigning.

"No… it wasn't a glacier," the geology teacher cocked a finger at the student with a wink, "Good guess though! Any one else?"

"How do you know it wasn't supposed to be there?"

"It is of different mineral composition than the rocks around it. That, and it was just lying around. Now, any other thoughts on this rock before we continue onto the lesson?"

Every student picked up on the opportunity. Sidetrack-the-teacher was a sport they all knew too well, and all could smell a tangential instructor from down the hallway. Questions regarding his excavation trip were among the first asked; others decided to ask about glaciers. Even Miko set down her pen to raise her hand to ask about the rock's composition. But that hand faltered as she saw what she had doodled. She glanced swiftly to either side, but her classmates were too wary of her and too attentive to their task of avoiding the lesson to notice. Her hand slid over the paper to cover the rough sketch of a vehicle, ten tons of metal muscle. A tear slipped from her eye to the back of her hand. From there, it rolled down to soak the paper.

As the class continued, the students easily keeping the teacher from the lesson, she watched it dry, pulling the blue lines together slowly.

When the bell finally rang, it was dull in her ears and she picked up her backpack and followed the gaggle of students out the door with shoulders slung low.

* * *

The table was white, supposedly to give the illusion of sterility, an illusion that was broken by ancient food splatters and stains. A zippered cloth lunch box sat on the top, unopened. Raf fiddled with the pull. Students, both older and younger, passed by him, reminding him that Memorial High School was a misnomer, with middle school students simultaneously trying to avoid and overthrow the high schoolers. Loud guffaws and jostling approached him from behind, and soon a group of junior boys took their places at Raf's table, one sliding onto the bench right next to him. The red-haired boy scoffed at one of his friend's comments and was shoved for his declaration. He crashed backwards, hitting Raf on the shoulder. The boy, Vince, turned, offense crossing his expression, "Watch it, pipsqueak!"

Raf inched away from him, and gathered his lunch box against his chest. Without a word he stood and walked away. He heard Vince give one last call to assert his dominance before returning to mock his friend again. The younger boy stepped outside the doors to where the overflow of students ate on the sidewalk and grass. Ducking his head to make himself even more invisible, he slipped around the corner, next to the dumpster. Sliding between the large metal bin and the brick wall, Raf pulled out his cell phone and opened it, still clutching his lunch box to his chest. He flipped through the contacts to "BB."

His finger hovered over the green phone symbol. It began to quiver, as did his knees. He let himself drop to the ground, ignoring the impact on his tailbone. His lunchbox became crushed between his torso and knees and his thumb still hovered. The bell rang, announcing the end of the first lunch hour. Slowly, the rest of his fingers nudged the phone closed and he stood to follow the flow of jostling and joking students inside.

* * *

The concrete outside the school was quiet. Still and calm as grass ruffled its edges. Bike treads sat, rested up against the metal racks while a soft breeze buffeted the bushes. Three school buses rolled to a stop at the curb.

The final bell rang. One of the bus drivers flicked a look at his watch and began counting down. Within a minute, the calm was shattered. Tennis shoes, high heels, flip-flops are stomped and sprinted on the pavement in a mad collective push to get out. Miko was with the first rush of the crowd, having not even bothered returning to her locker. At the forefront, she was able to claim her spot, the ledge of the concrete railing. She slid her backpack to one side and the contents spilled out of the unzipped bag. Her geology book, art history, geometry, and her sketchpad. She glared at the final object.

"Will you just stop it?" she hissed. "I know what I'm missing; I know he's gone. Now will you just stop _reminding me_!"

Movement around her ceased as she shouted the last two words. Right in front of her stood Sierra, eyes wide. Hers weren't the only ones. Miko's chin jutted to one side and she glared at a nondescript area to her lower left. Eventually the flow of students continued, Sierra giving one last startled look before joining her friends at the foot of the stairs. The group of them began whispering and glancing Miko's way. She gave them a disdainful sneer in return, set her elbows on her knees, and plopped her jaw onto her palms, and waited.

Inside Jack waited patiently by a middle school locker, his own backpack already strapped to his back and prepared.

"How was first day of classes?"

Raf shrugged as he slid books into his pack. The kid hadn't made eye contact with Jack at all during the day, not even when they literally ran into each other between their two lunch hours. The At last the boy closed the locker and hiked the backpack onto his shoulders.

"Ready?"

The boy nodded, still making eye contact with the floor. On impulse, Jack dropped to a knee and laid a hand on Raf's shoulder. "It'll be okay."

He felt like he was lying.

A scoff came from across the hall. Vince sneer as he passed, "Didn't know you played mommy, Darby."

Stopping the bully in his tracks was a sudden brief guffaw from Raf. Jack and Vince both stared at the kid, who was not looking at either of them, but clearly trying to contain a smile.

"…Raf?"

"Freak," Vince stalked off.

"Raf?" Jack asked again. Raf shook his head, smile turning sad. Unsure of what to do, Jack stood up again. "We should go, I've got to get to work and Miko's probably waiting for us."

They began walking down the now deserted hallway.

"Sorry about that, Jack."

Startled, again, Jack glanced down at Raf, who still maintained eye contact with the floor. "Your mom is nice and all, but you didn't learn that from her."

Jack caught Raf's train of thought, and an involuntary "Ha!" leapt from his mouth. A mental image cropped up and he bit down hard to keep the snickers contained.

Miko was beginning to wonder if the girls to her right would ever shut up. Oh, sure, she was quite a talker herself, but at least she talked about interesting things. She shot them a sideways glance and wondered what was keeping the others. Sierra looked up, but focused on something past her. A flirtatious smile began to spread across her face, one that was overcome by confusion the moment a hand touched Miko's shoulder. Turning she was startled to see Jack and Raf both trying very hard to hold smiles in check.

"Miko," Jack gave into the grin and said quietly, "disregarding any context you may have missed, imagine Vince calling Optimus 'mommy.'"

The laugh burst from her so hard it hurt. Knees jerked up towards her chest and she fell backwards on the concrete, howling. At the sight, Raf gave up and his shoulders began to bounce. Jack collapsed against the railing, a hand covering his eyes as he still tried to maintain dignity.

"Oooohhh," Miko came up for air. "We totally need to tell him about that. Can't you just imagine his express…"

She regretted the words even as they left her tongue. The laughter died and Miko bit her tongue hard. Would she ever learn to shut up?

Kicking her legs out, she dropped from the railing onto the steps, backpack in hand. She nudged everything back into place, not bothering to zip it. Jack must have caught onto her guilt; he placed a hand on her shoulder again, "Miko…"

"Let's get you to work, Vector Man," she shrugged into her backpack and out of his touch.

Raf and Jack followed her down the steps and through the line of buses. At the last moment, Jack caught a glimpse of Sierra watching them leave. He couldn't tell what her expression was, and at the moment, he didn't care.

"…I… I almost called Bee today."

The three were a good block away from school when Raf confessed. He walked between the other two, waiting for an answer, almost dreading it.

"It's okay, Raf. We've all been struggling with this."

"Yeah, no one's gonna blame you for wanting to talk to him. Do you know how many times I tried to call Bulkhead?"

"'Tried?'" Jack sounded worried. "Miko, if we even send out the signal – "

"I'm not an idiot, Jack. I didn't actually press the 'call' button," Miko's defensive tone slipped away. "But I was afraid I would. So I deleted his comm number last night."

Raf's hand slid into his pocket, and his hand clamped around his phone as he heard Jack say softly, "I'm sorry, Miko."

Silence reached Raf's ears again, and presently KO Drive-Thru came into view. With one street left to cross, Jack stopped suddenly. Raf watched his shoes as he came to stand in front of him and knelt.

"Raf, it's okay to be upset about this, but don't hide from us."

Slowly, Raf lifted his head, but the farthest he got was Jack's chin.

"Oh come _on_, you charged at Megatron of all people, 'Cons, things…" Miko had leaned over and gave him a nudge with her elbow. "We aren't that scary… are we?"

Raf smiled and looked up at both of them. They smiled back. There was relief in their eyes. Miko gave his shoulder a friendly slap, and Jack stood up, "Keep each other safe on the way home."

"Really?" Miko squinted an eye at him. "This is Jasper, Nevada."

_Nothing happens here anymore._

* * *

_ He chased the beast through the fog, the howl of rage fixed into a snarl upon his face. But the beast always kept ahead, out of reach, laughing. Taunting. He roared at it again. It laughed. Then it vanished._

No_!_

_ His running slowed, stopped, as he looked and listened for any sound that he might pursue. His face set, his teeth clenched._

_ A laugh echoed around him once more and he whirled, trying to follow. The fog took on an acidic stench and it dwindled until it became the smoke of a thousand people. _

_ The snarl left his face, and he wanted to look away. A city lay in dust and ashes billowed up into his vision. Faces, thousands of faces frozen in pain, gaped up at him. Their still wide, terrified eyes held his own, rooting him to the spot. They were screaming, pleading, even in death "Where were you?"_

* * *

A/N_ Hey, thanks for the reviews and encouragement! I really appreciate it! God willing, I will have another chapter up in a week. As for you guys, keep on creating!_


	4. Chapter 4

**(7 days since incident)**

The Eradicon tumbled across the floor, and Dreadwing rose from his crouched stance to his full height to watch. His fingers folded out of a fist as the trooper came at last to a halt. Dreadwing waited. The trooper slowly lifted himself from the floor, but it was clear he did so more out of hesitation than pain. Two long swift strides and a reformed fist later, the trooper found himself tossed down again, face up, as Dreadwing stood over him. This time the commander did not unclench his fist as he lectured.

"The battlefield is no place for sloth."

"Yes, sir."

"Again."

The shoulders of the trooper slumped but he rose to his feet at only a slightly quicker rate. Dreadwing kept himself from delivering a full glare to his subordinate, but he could not stop his optics from narrowing in annoyance. As the Eradicon finally came upright, he lashed out with his fist, and with a start the trooper spun to one side, leaving his back unguarded. It was a significant portion of willpower that Dreadwing executed to not transferred his frustration into the next blow. He did not bother to continue watching as the trooper was sent tumbling once more. He coolly turned his back and waited until he ceased to hear the sound of metal bouncing against metal. Dreadwing did not even bother to glance over a shoulder as he gave his next command.

"Join the others."

Rapid scraps and shifting gears indicated that the trooper was unharmed as he hurriedly removed himself from the commander's presence to stand against the wall. Dreadwing turned to allow his optics roved over the score of Eradicons brought in for this training rotation, and took a small and slow intake of air to halt his rising impatience. Was he condemned to find no motivated warrior among the troops?

"Next!"

An Eradicon stepped obediently from the ranks, and faced his commander. Pleased surprise flickered across Dreadwing's face for an instant as the trooper took a fighting stance. The form was imperfect, but it was an effort. It reminded him that there were a select few that proved his despair wrong. For that, he was grateful.

One short sprint forward and Dreadwing struck forward with the heel of his palm and the trooper sidestepped. Dreadwing's other hand twisted upwards to stop the retaliating blow and returned the favor. The Eradicon's legs buckled and he fell, catching himself with one hand before coming upright again. The commander's fist was already in motion again and the trooper threw up an arm to block. He was sent to the ground again.

Rising, the trooper attempted a left jab at Dreadwing. His blow did not connect. Dreadwing's did.

Again and again the trooper struck the floor, each smack growing in volume and pain, until his arms quivered as he sought to raise himself from the metal. A hand cupped beneath his elbow, guided him upwards, and set him firmly on his feet. His feet shifted into the fighting stance as the hand fell away. Dreadwing stood upright before him, arms at his sides. An optic brow on the commander's face lifted slightly, "67-V4?"

"Yes, sir."

Amused frustration would best describe the expression that shadowed the seeker's face, "Stop trying to stand your ground. You are lighter of foot than me. Utilize that."

Dreadwing waved a hand as the trooper altered his stance, imperfectly again, "Keep that in mind for the next time. After this session, report to Knock Out."

The trooper turned to take his place against the wall, and Dreadwing felt his approval of the Eradicon drop a few levels; the trooper's stride was clearly one of offended pride. He turned to face the wall as 67-V4 slid between two of his fellows.

"Next."

* * *

Knock Out was never one to remember the difference between one trooper and the next, but this batch of jet Eradicons was becoming tediously familiar.

"Would it kill Commander Dreadwing to take a vacation?"

Not one of troopers answered as the medic continued complaining, "I try to keep you troops in peak condition, and every single solar cycle you twelve have to show back up here with scars worse than Starscream when Megatron has his turbines in a twist!"

He gestured 67-V4 off the berth and the next took his place silently. 67-V4 slipped to one side to stand with those already patched. Not one of the twenty that waited within the medical bay worked within the same section of the _Nemesis_, but they too had become familiar with each other. 67-V4 did not know any other the others' designations but judging from their similar injuries, all twenty were the ones who showed actual effort during each training session. At least in the jet trooper sessions. Perhaps there was a similar number among the ground-based Eradicons or the miners.

"Seriously, these paint jobs are beyond the pale, and that's not even taking into account the interior damage on the circuitry!"

"Dreadwing is a competent first lieutenant. I am certain he would deal no lasting damage to my troops in a simple training exercise."

Whirling, Knock Out's demeanor changed in an instant, a nervous smile flashing across his face, "Lord Megatron, I didn't hear you enter… How long have I kept you waiting?"

"Long enough, doctor," Megatron strode casually towards the medic, "Eradicons, you are dismissed."

After the door closed behind the last trooper, Megatron leaned down to Knock Out's level, hands clasped behind his back and an amused brow cocked, "Be grateful that today my turbines are not 'in a twist,' Doctor."

The medic's optics squinted from the bottom, accentuating the nervous, obligatory laugh as he step backward. Once he was a decent distance from the warlord, who had risen again to his full height, Knock Out said, "So, what brings you to the medical bay, my Lord?"

"Progress report."

Knock Out waited expectantly for clarification, but Megatron seemed content to take his time. He stepped past the medic to the array of tools and chemicals. After a moment of observation, his hand reached out and plucked a small vial from the shelves of chemicals. From the corner of his optic, Megatron saw Knock Out wince and a servo extend quickly in anxiety. Amusement again caused one brow to raise, but he held the vial delicately as he eyed the translucent green substance within.

"The sample you acquired from Ratchet. What has it yielded?"

"Ah," Knock Out took a few steps closer, still keeping an optic on the fragile object within the warlord's grasp, "Well the Autobot was technically not on chemical enhancement."

"A number of my troops and a particular blow to my own person says otherwise, Doctor."

"Oh to be sure, he did not have untainted energon in his veins," a tap of his claws and a screen uploaded with a chemical formula. "But rather than injecting himself with say, kremzeek, or other chemical stimuli, he appears to have been running on an entirely new form of energon."

"As in synthesized?" Megatron gave the vial a casual tap with one of his free fingers. Knock Out winced again.

"Yes. I am unsure where he got the formula, but beyond the personality-based side effects, I have not found anything untoward about regarding its use."

"Has your research progressed to the point of Cybertronian-testing?"

Knock Out took a step back and looked at the screen. One hand came to tap his chin while the other curled around his front to support the elbow. At last he spoke, the hand at his chin now gesturing to the chemical formula before him, "It would have a significant amount of risk, but we cannot ignore the fact that the Autobots themselves have brought it to that stage. My only issue would be manufacturing."

"You lack the equipment?" Megatron returned the vial to its place on the shelf, causing visible relaxation in the medic.

"Equipment, yes. Time, no," Knock Out shrugged. "Ever since Breakdown's demise, my hands have been a little more than full."

"Well then," Megatron strode past Knock Out to the door, "I'm afraid you may have to sacrifice a few racing excursions."

The door shuttered open and Megatron stepped through, not bothering to turn and acknowledge the bow Knock Out gave. The door shuttered close and Knock Out allowed himself a crude gesture towards its metal. Sulking would best describe the expression that overtook the sports car's face.

* * *

_ The city of dust was driven away by a new cry torn from a new throat. Rage, pain, loss. It all culminated into a wordless howl, driving into his head. He ran, sprinting towards the sound, driving through ash and fog as the cry continued._

Hang on. I'm coming. Hang on.

_ Laughter._

_ "NO!" He struck out at the ash as he ran, trying to see, trying to get closer. Through the wall of grey before him he saw the beast. And he saw the being crying out all the rage within, charging the beast. It laughed and batted it down, pinning it to the broken earth. A smile stretched across its face as it leaned down, jaws slowly gaping. But its gaze was on him. Taunting, victorious._

_ One last strike and it fled, still laughing. He took up the howl, shouting after it. But the world around him closed in, slowing him. By the time he reached the new victim, there was nothing left to save. There was nothing left to even bury. He collapsed to his knees and tore at the ground with his hands, the dirt transforming into the throat of the beast as his vision swirled, turning grey to harsh red._

* * *

A/N _Thanks to grayorca for advice on writing 'Cons. It helped a lot in revising this chapter! Now off to play _Fall of Cybertron! _Keep on creating!_


	5. Chapter 5

**(11 days since incident)**

With a huff of exhaustion, Emily dropped her pack to the ground and collapsed on top of it. She heard footsteps against the dirt, passing by her ear, and she groaned a demand of explanation from their source into the canvas bag, "How did you get me to say 'yes' to this?"

"Look at this view!" Beth stopped at the edge of the bluff and threw her arms out. "And the sky is going to be cloud-free tonight!"

"I want my bed," Emily flicked away a rock that was digging into her hip.

"I'm so glad we didn't bring a tent. Score one for sleeping under the stars!"

Lifting her head up enough to look back over her shoulder and glare, Emily saw Beth standing with hands on her hips, still facing out to the sun that was in the middle of its descent. A wordless groan and some truly unnecessary effort later, Emily pushed her self up and walked to stand next to her friend.

"How did you get me to say 'yes' to this?"

Beth finally acknowledged her, turning with a frustrating smile, "What is there to say 'no' to?"

"Oh, let me think," one hand found Emily's hip and she leaned back, giving a one-handed shrug. "The horrendous pack I just had to carry, the rocky ground I'll have to sleep on, that ridiculous walk we had to get here, and the fact that people have disappeared from these woods."

"People disappear in every type of wood, Emily. Stop complaining."

Beth walked towards the packs, her friend reluctantly following and muttering, "Camping trip to the Bitterroot Mountains was not what I had in mid for my first weekend of college."

The distinct thrum of an engine and the tread of tires upon dirt brought them both up short, stalling Beth's reply. Brows knit in dual confusion, they eyed the cliff face from which they had come. Beth was the first to make the motion to return. Emily followed and the sight of a white sports car below resulted in a huff of annoyance.

"We could have _driven_ out here?"

"Thanks for ruining my wilderness experience," Beth glared down at the car, once again ignoring any grievances her friend may have been holding against her.

Beneath the cliff, the car idled, the tinted windows revealing nothing of the impatience of Wheeljack. The Wrecker waited, the gears around his T-cog grinding.

_First source I track that ain't covered in 'Cons and I still can't properly scout._

He revved his engine, causing the two humans to leap back a few paces.

_Good. Now get on out of here, fleshies._

One of them seemed to have the right idea. She turned and actively tugged on her companion's shirt. The other placed her hands on her hips and began to launch insults, leaning over the cliff edge in an attempt to stare him down. In no mood to appreciate spunk, Wheeljack revved his engine a second time, louder.

_'Robots in disguise' is getting awfully old._

His engine slowed to a rhythm that was strangely akin to the impatient tapping of fingers. A rhythm matched by the obnoxious fleshy's digits against her hip. The other had walked away from the edge, her hands grasping at the air in annoyance.

_Screw this. Screw the slaggin' rules._

He allowed a gear to catch on his T-cog. Even the combined lecturing of Optimus and Tiny was better than this. At least that would eventually end.

"Come _on_, Beth!" the fleshy with a brain and no spark reappeared, chucking a bag at the other. Beth caught it without looking and ensured the white car had one last glare as she shouldered the pack.

The gear against the Wrecker's T-cog paused as the two humans at last disappeared from sight. He remained idling, still impatient, as the audio of their footsteps eventually faded into the forest.

A robot form sprang up from the car's model, the Autobot rolling his joints to ensure the energon flow. Allowing himself the glare he was not able to return a few moments ago, Wheeljack plucked the scanner from his side and watched the needle bounce. A grin crept up on side of his mouth as he followed the direction indicated. Footfalls crunched against the dirt and the branches of pines scrapped lightly against his metal whenever he pushed himself through a grove into another clearing. The closer he approached the cliff face that barely peaked over the treetops, the wider his grin grew.

At last he stood before the craggy wall of stone. Following the scanner's direction along the edge of the base Wheeljack soon returned the device to his waist. His hand briefly folded into a cannon and he fired into the cliff. Rocks erupted all around as he casually returned his limb to a simple hand. The debris finally settled, Wheeljack stepped forward towards the hole he created and brushed away a significant portion of dust to reveal a bright blue streak within the stone.

"Hello, beautiful."

* * *

"Autobot Outpost Omega One, this is the Jackhammer. Got a pleasant surprise for you all." Mentally he betted with himself as to which reply he would receive: friendly, crotchety, or bleep. Or perhaps he was in for a lecture or speech.

He got nothing.

"Autobot Outpost Omega One, do you copy?"

The static over the communications caused him to pull upwards on the Jackhammer's controls, bringing it to a hovering halt. His fingers drummed against the throttle, but his internal debate did not last long. If any scrap was going down within the base, nothing could stop him from getting there.

"Wheeljack?"

Static died as a single voice perked over the radio, heavy with the emotions of panic and relief. The Wrecker slowed his travel once more, never expecting such a tone from this Autobot. Hs optics narrowed in suspicion.

"Commander? You gonna fill me in on this development?"

When Optimus spoke again, the panic had receded from his voice, leaving… something else. "Rendezvous at my coordinates, and do not attempt to contact the base at any time."

Glancing at the dashboard, he found an Autobot signal to the northeast, the direction from which he had just been traveling.

"Comin' your way, Commander. Jackhammer out."

* * *

Just within the edge of the Bitterroot Mountains, the Jackhammer found a clearing into which it settled. A tall mech stood at the tree line, waiting. Exiting his ship, Wheeljack crossed over to him, "Why didn't you catch me before I was halfway to Nevada?"

Optimus glanced briefly over his shoulder, gesturing behind him with an open hand, "I had only picked up your signal a few miles back into the forest."

"Weird. Energon interference? I just found a mother load a little east of here."

As the Prime turned to follow Wheeljack's point, the Wrecker noticed something. Something off. Shoulders were slightly hunched forward; his movements were slower, as if nearing exhaustion.

"Decepticons?"

Wheeljack shrugged, "Naw. Couple of humans I had to chase off though."

A pivot at the waist brought Optimus to face Wheeljack, a reprimand swift at the top of his vocal processor. The generals were always so fraggin predictable.

Hands up, palms towards the Prime, Wheeljack headed off the lecture, "Vehicular form, Commander, and I only revved my engine at them a bit."

He grinned, "Should have seen them jump."

A level of annoyance and reluctance crept into the edge of Optimus' optics as they narrowed slightly, "Wheeljack, I fear that our cover is more important to maintain than ever."

Ok, so he wasn't completely successful in heading off the lecture.

"Don't we have Tiny to play clean-up?"

A hand slowly clenched at the side of Optimus Prime.

"Bill is…" the blue optics shifted "… no longer available to help us."

"Cons? Or those MECH characters?"

Optimus's brow knitted for a moment before he caught Wheeljack's drift. The Wrecker looked ready for an excuse to make noise, if his hand's proximity to his waist, and grenade, was any indication. It was Optimus' turn to stall the other with a gesturing hand.

"As far as I am aware, Bill is alive and well."

"Huh," the hand fell away from the grenade, "then why the sudden familiarity?"

Optics shifted upwards, past the Jackhammer, as if he could see Jasper from there. "Because he became family."

* * *

"I need the civilians' names, Bill."

"All of them? Well, there's Ms. Bloomingard. She owns the local gas station. Joe Feynman is a fine neighbor, as long as his dog doesn't get loose. Schwarzenegger. I don't know him personally, but he's a civilian. And then my mother, Julie Fowler…"

Bryce stared at Fowler through the glass that separated them. His moustache twitched as he tried to contain his frustration. The former special agent was handcuffed and dressed in an orange jumpsuit, still rattling off names.

"Doyle. He was a civilian. Dead and from England, but a civilian. Jesus was one too. Though there's debate about the past tense."

There was the partial source of frustration. He had seen Fowler use his debatably-clever wit to stall enemies, namely when the two of them were Army Rangers stuck in interrogation. Bryce never thought he would be on the receiving end.

"Bill. I am trying to help you."

The sincerity of the statement was lost on Fowler or outright ignored.

"Really? Could you speak to management then? Customer service here is atrocious."

Leaning in Bryce hoped his own change of tone would give Fowler the hint, " These… _things_ are dangerous. Do you know how many of our boys were killed by the Prime?"

_We were once those boys, together._

Fowler matched the lean, "Yes. Zero. I also happen to know MECH's count. The count I don't have memorized is how often that team has saved our necks."

All joking or façade thereof dropped from Fowler's voice, his voice matching his glare. Bryce's back ached briefly, remembering a vicious slam against consoles and computers. He absently straightened out his collar, as if someone had forcefully grabbed them. Time for another approach, "You could be tried for treason, Bill. You should be."

Pulling back from the glass, Fowler sat upright and said nothing. Bryce didn't listen to him at the tribunal, and clearly he wasn't going to start now. Mistaking his change in posture for the smallest dose of acquiescence, Bryce pressed on, fingers folding over each other as he set them before him. Part of him regretted that it was this tactic that caused Fowler to listen, "Our investigation into the Autobots' base is only a week in; we will find the civilians, and the aliens, eventually. If you help, I can see to it that your sentence is lessened. Even charges dropped, maybe."

Fowler's response was to blink, the type of motion that indicated the containment of an emotion.

"One name, Bill. That's it. Give us one name and I'll start the process."

Blink.

"I'm the only one you can rely on right now."

No blink, but a glance up and to one side as if suddenly distracted by a memory. Fowler's tone was surprisingly casual when he responded, "This work out is seeming familiar. Funny. The previous fellow had a habit of betrayal. Never thought it would rub off on you."

"The Autobots rescued you…" Bryce shook his head, mouth quirking to one corner as he sighed, taking his own turn to ignore a comment of Fowler's. "Bill, you can't let your personal feelings or your perceived debt to them get in the way."

"'Right' is not based on feelings. Mine just happen to support it this time around."

* * *

There was significant silence in the Jackhammer as they flew. Beside Wheeljack, Optimus was clearly far from comfortable, but he made no complaint. If either found the silence undesirable, they made no show of it. Not even an attempt at conversation.

Wheeljack was keeping an optic on the radar for any bogies and his mind on the new situation.

Optimus was keeping himself from powering down.

* * *

_Three graves: one filled, one mass, one empty. On his knees, still clutching at the earth, he stared at them. _

_ A cry of terror. _

_ Cold pricked its way up his back at the remembrance. He began to shake._

_ A plea for help._

_ His vision went black as he clenched them shut. _I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm…

_A howl of rage._

_ Dirt poured between his fingers as his shaking fist ratcheted tighter, his hand beginning to shout in pain. But it was all drowned out by the cry, the plea, the howl. Again and again, Overwhelming everything. They melded together into one horrendous scream that descended into the hated laughter._

_ A hand, firm and gentle on his shoulder. The laughter, the cries, they vanished at the touch. He looked up. A friend._

_ Smiling down, the older being placed its hand on his other shoulder, drawing his full attention. "Understand me. This is not your fault."_

_ Their gazes locked, and he wanted to believe it. He had done everything he could. Didn't he? He looked towards the three graves and his shoulders began to fall. The other being shook him, hard._

_ Startled, he snapped his gaze back up to the other. The smile was gone and it shook him again for emphasis. "It is not your –"_

_ A shocked expression shot across the other's face, cutting off its words. Blood poured out of its chest and it fell forward. He rose swiftly to one knee to catch it. With a shout of laughter, blood staining its claws, the grey beast laughed and vanished with a turn and a sprint._

_ It was no longer earth that he clutched with a ferocity, but rather the being, the friend, swiftly dying. A hand, stained with its own life, reached up and grabbed him at the back of his head, as the being pulled himself up, "Not. Your. Fault."_

_ The hand slipped away, the voice faded, and the last spark of life ebbed out._

_ He held on tight and wept._

_ Four graves._

* * *

A/N _As you may have noticed by the two-week delay, chapters may not be weekly any more, FYI. Something known as college has begun once more, which despite what many may tell you, it's not a bad thing. If you find the subject matter you love and are passionate about, then college is completely worth your time!_

_That being said, the Schrodinger wave equation in spherical coordinates is not something I'd like to meet in a dark alley. It's scary._

_Onto some more shameless plugging. _Fall of Cybertron._ Go play it. Now._


	6. Chapter 6

**(11 days since incident)**

Her fist barely supporting her cheekbone, Miko's eyes began glazing over. Her teacher was once again at it, going on a long tale regarding his mountain exploration. Sidetrack-the-teacher was fun up to a point. And they had long since passed the event horizon. A full week "Take 'Earth Science,'" her counselor had said. "It will be less demanding than Chemistry or Physics."

"Now, I noticed that part of the cliff had actually sunk. The sedimentary layers weren't lined up correctly!"

Miko sat back in her chair and let her head loll over the back. _Gaaaaah. Make it stop._ She wondered if people in Chemistry got to blow things up. Maybe Wheeljack could… _Stop it. Stop it. Make it stop._ She fiddled with her pen and scribbled a line across her notebook, ending with a pathetic loop-dee-loop.

"Sedimentary rock is only one of may types of rocks. The others…"

The bell. That beautiful, miraculous bell. Life springing into her, Miko snatched her notebook, pen, and backpack. Halfway out the door, she heard the teacher finish his sentence.

"… will have to wait until tomorrow."

Half a day left. Then a little bit of home.

* * *

"Move it, loser!"

Raf glanced up from his lunch to see a plastic bag skid across a table, the sandwich inside meeting the tiled floor with a flop. Vince's red hair stood out neatly in the crowd as he leaned over. The common sneer on his face was directed to someone seated at the same table. More insults and derisions wound their way around the cafeteria as people found other places to look. Raf found the tabletop and his teeth found his lower lip.

He closed his eyes for a moment, then slid out of his seat. Halfway to Vince's table, he paused, a knot tying itself in his gut.

"Not even close to Megatron."

A deep breath followed that whisper and he forced himself to walk forward and pick p the sandwich. He turned to see a freshman girl clutching at her paper lunch bag, not looking at Vince. He took two steps into the situation and held out the sandwich.

"This is yours, right?"

The girl glanced down at him, and quietly took it. He smiled at her, and she whispered a quiet thank you. Vince laughed behind her, made an innuendo. She turned red and looked down.

"Shut up, Vince."

Words came out of his mouth quickly and quietly, but not quiet enough. Vince leaned farther over the girl to direct his sneer at Raf. "What'd you say, freak?"

Raf looked away and down at the floor, "Leave her alone."

The cafeteria had gone dead silent and Raf could feel eyes on him. Why did he get himself into this situation?

"Ha! Guys, look. The little freak thinks he's brave."

Raf dared to glance up and see Vince jostling his friends to laugh with him. And he found that sneer familiar.

_"Humans. Resilient."_

"Yes. I am."

Vince's sneer faded into confusion at the quiet affirmation. He blinked bewilderedly at the middle school nerd that now looked him square in the eyes. But the cocky expression came back quickly.

"I've faced worse than you, Vince. Now leave her alone."

In a terrifying moment, Vince took a step towards Raf, a fist bunching.

There was no Arcee to dodge between them this time.

The bell rang.

Students swarmed up and out, faster than normal. It took Raf a moment to blink and realize that Vince was one of them, and so was the girl. They were both gone.

In a rapidly emptying cafeteria, Raf walked back to his lunch, picked it up, and joined the throng.

A quarter of the day left. Then a little bit of home.

* * *

Jack's feet were amongst the first to set foot on the stairs outside of the school at the end of the day. Sidestepping the crowd he leaned up against the concrete railing. The daily aching he felt was lessened a little by the evening's plans. His eyes roved to the parking lot and he let them shut for a moment. Arcee would be waiting right there. He'd slip on his helmet, she's make a snide comment, and they'd be off.

A sour taste rose again in his mouth. Jack shook his head a little, digging knuckles into his forehead. He'd done this before. As a little kid, picked up from kindergarten. Close his eyes, and a man would pull up to the curbside, he'd get in, and they'd go home. But no matter how hard he'd imagine, it was always his mom, alone.

Would Optimus have left his mom alone?

Didn't he already?

"Jack?"

Sierra was standing next to him. "You okay?"

His knuckles automatically shifted to run quickly through his hair. "Yeah. You?"

Shoulders slumped, lower lip extended in a pretty little pout, Sierra sighed, "Trig is not my friend."

Laughter came out in a little burst. Grinning, Jack elbowed the pouting girl, "Not fond of the Pharaoh?"

The look that Sierra gave him was mixed with more than a little disbelief. "Oh. My. Gosh. Puh-leeease don't tell me that you got into that 'SOH CAH TOA' idiocy."

"Hey, it's a clever way to remember the sine, cosine and tangent rules."

A bump with her hip caught Jack off guard. She flicked a finger at his t-shirt, "Well since you seem to enjoy the company of such royalty, care to tutor me with homework? I'm free tonight."

Noncommittally, a single syllable trailed out of his mouth and Sierra cocked her head at him, "Why don't you come over for dinner?"

"Uuuuuh… why don't you?" Words were once again bounced off of Jack's tongue before he could catch them. "I mean Raf and Miko are already joining my Mom and me."

"Oh. Miko." Sierra took a half step away, giving Jack room to breathe and think. He glanced her way, not entirely fond of the tone she took.

"You've got a problem with Miko?"

Not entirely fond of his own defensive tone either.

"Well you clearly don't," Sierra peeked out from around him to catch a glimpse of her friends at the bottom of the stairs. "Bye Jack."

Her red ponytail bounced as she headed down the steps without giving him a backward glance. Jack wasn't sure if he was disappointed or happy that she left.

Just a little longer to wait for Raf and Miko. And then a little bit of home.

* * *

It was a slow day. Carol tapped some papers together and swiveled a bit in her office chair. Part of her wondered what a patron would say if they came into a spinning receptionist. Another part reminded the first that this was a hospital. The patrons don't want a dizzy receptionist.

With a little sigh Carol set the balls of her feet on the floor to keep her swivels to a forty-five degree range. Next to her the doors to the emergency room flapped open. Carol glanced up, her eyes tracking the leaving figure with some level of worry.

"Leaving early again? June, are you sure you're fine?"

June Darby paused and glanced back with a smile, "I'm doing well. Thanks for checking Carol."

"Honey, you aren't fooling anyone with that grin. Those family issues you and Jack are going through? We're here for you June."

"Thanks Carol. If there's anything I think of, I'll let you know."

Glass doors slid open for her and June strode her way across the lot.

It was time for a little bit of home.

* * *

_ "I've been left before too." A small being stood before the four graves. "He was supposed to teach me how to live. How to be strong. But he left."_

_ He looked up from his own bitter tears to see the little being holding back some of its own. "You won't leave me, will you?"_

_ His mouth opened to say "no."_

_ The laughter came, and the beast appeared. Without a second thought, without a single word, he leapt at the beast, chasing it down. The grey beast danced away, taunting, gesturing with its blood-soaked claws. He drew his sword and charged._

_ Behind him, the little being made no complaint, made no tears. It just turned and left, and somehow, he had lost a little bit of home._

* * *

A/N _I'm doing science and I'm still alive!_

_No really, I'm doing science. Because guess who is a graduating Physics undergrad who still uses SOH CAH TOA to solve problems with angles. This gal! _

_It's due to reaching my senior year and projects piling that I have not updated in a while. However, I was able to make an outline of this tale and at last have an end in sight. Having a clear path has enabled me to see what was and was not necessary to the story. As a result I made three changes to the previous chapters that are listed below:_

_- Optimus and Co. in Bitterroot Mountains (Western America) not Boreal Forest (Canada)_

_- Knock Out is not getting an assistant. It was going to be Shockwave and Knock Out would end up as HIS assistant. Unfortunately this story arch would make the tale too crowded, so it got nixed. Bye-bye Chugway._

_- I've added a note to every chapter to give the context of timing since the Bot's departure from the base._

_Final note: I have a one-shot Transformers crossover that I uploaded today too. As a warning: it is a self-insert because it is addresses (transparently) a topic and references an event that are very close to me. I wasn't sure if I was ready to share it with you guys, so I hung onto it for almost a year. But here I go. It's called "Faithless."_

_Thanks for your patience and loyalty guys! Keep being creative!_


	7. Chapter 7

**(11 days since incident)**

Bulkhead and Bumblebee knew better than to interfere. However, that did not keep them from wincing at Ratchet's plight. The medic himself seemed more annoyed than anything, leaning over a worn boulder, supporting himself with one palm, a digit tapping the surface as he withstood the storm.

"Were you fragged in the head?" Arcee thrust her chin towards Ratchet, her whole stance that of an infuriated mother, her finger jabbed roughly at him. Ratchet's own finger responded with a tap-tap against the rock. Bumblebee began to sidestep, inching behind Bulkhead, his shoulders rising rigidly to protect his audio receptors as Arcee's voice rose steeply.

"You really thought this was a good idea?"

Tap-tap.

Ratchet's shoulders stiffened even more. Bulkhead's teeth clenched as he began leaning away, turning to let his shoulder receive the force of any resulting explosion.

"Did you take fragging lessons from Miko?"

Tap-tap.

"Or did you just _forget_ the last time he went on a mission alone?"

"Do you expect me to _sedate_ him?!" The volume of Ratchet's explosion easily matched Arcee's. He whirled and stalked two steps closer, palms up as his fists half-curled in frustration.

"A simple contact would be nice. A quick 'Hey, get back to base camp because Optimus is going to do something stupid.'"

"Oh, yes. How could I have forgotten? Because it's so easy to comm someone when _they are out of signal range!_"

The initial explosion over, Bulkhead and Bee relaxed slightly. Anxiety gave way to new thoughts as Bee peeked out from behind the former Wrecker. His optics clicked back and forth between the two arguing 'Bots, and his shoulders slumped. Bulkhead took that moment to glance behind and down at the scout. Bee did not return the gaze, his blue optics rotating slightly as he watched Arcee and Ratchet, inching closer and closer, nearly at each other's throats.

With a heavy sigh Bulkhead took two long steps and pushed the two apart, inserting himself in the middle. Arcee stepped back out of his touch and backhanded his fingers away, "Bulkhead…"

"We don't need this, do we? We already have the humans against us. I don't think we want any more division," he glanced briefly over his shoulder and lowered his voice. "The kid is getting worried."

Both Ratchet and Arcee felt their sparks drop with shame as they too stole a quick glance towards Bumblebee. The scout was watching with helpless worry, as a child might do when his parents begin to fiercely disagree. Arcee let out a sigh and a quiet expletive as she looked away. Bee had been through so much; it was hard to remember that he was just a kid.

Any further argument or the defusing thereof was silenced by the sound of an approaching aircraft. The sound was distinctive, memorable, especially to the former Wrecker.

"Jackie?"

Coming in at an altitude low enough to clip the highest of the conifers surrounding their hideaway, the Jackhammer landed smoothly, kicking up dust onto the other four 'Bots. The engines turned off, the hum of the cooling system dying down as the bay door opened. Optimus stepped out first, followed by Wheeljack.

"How… how did you find him?"

Both new arrivals looked expectantly at Bulkhead, not sure which he was addressing, an unsurety Bulkhead shared. Finally Optimus spoke, "I was returning to communications range of Jasper – "

"_What?_" Arcee and Ratchet gaped at him and Bee gave a series of bewildered beeps.

" – to achieve contact with Wheeljack and warn him of the threat at our base. I intercepted him en route as I reached the edge of the Bitterroot Mountains, where he returned to meet me."

"Optimus," Arcee seemed to be choosing her words carefully, avoiding expletives. "You went on a recon mission, back to dangerous territory, without telling even Ratchet?"

"I wanted to establish contact with Wheeljack as soon as possible."

As the tension arose once more, the 'Bots began to shift uneasily. Wheeljack glanced between the Prime and his soldiers, trying to place pieces of the puzzle together.

"Optimus, you could have been seen, captured!" All traces of hesitation were gone from her voice now.

"A risk that would have befallen any on this mission, and I risk I am not willing to ask any of you to make."

"We're soldiers, Optimus. We've risked far worse."

For that, the Prime had no reply.

Bee jumped into the silence, suggesting a quick scouting mission with Arcee, of course within their set base camp perimeter, to check to see if the Jackhammer was followed. Wheeljack began to scoff at the notion, but a small wave from Bulkhead kept it from fully realizing. Arcee let out a second sigh as she noticed the helpless worry on the scout's face once more and gave her consent with a swift transformation. A sports car and a motorcycle soon left the others' presence into the woods.

"Optimus, could I speak to you for a moment?"

The Prime stepped towards Ratchet, "Of course, old friend."

The hint taken Bulkhead approached Wheeljack, "Let's find a place to hide her."

He nodded towards the Jackhammer. Both Wreckers continued on their way, leaving Optimus and Ratchet alone in the clearing.

An intake of air ran through Optimus as he watched the treetops bend very slightly in the wind, "I know what you want to say, Ratchet."

Taking a few steps closer, Ratchet tilted his head to one side in acknowledgement, but it did not stop his words. "Arcee is right, Optimus. This was not a mission for you to take. You stand out more than any of us."

"I would rather myself be captured than see any of you…"

"We're _soldiers_, Optimus! Not _children_!"

Words froze in both their mouths, great shoulders sinking under weights. From a dream, a whispered question slipped into Optimus's mind.

"_You won't leave me, will you?_"

Four words, so soft that Ratchet wasn't sure he heard them:

"I am sorry, Jack."

* * *

"Sorry, Jack!"

A single moment after bumping into him, Miko threw out a hand to help stabilize the casserole pan that threatened to tilt out of Jack's palm. In his other hand, juice sloshed around precariously.

"Uh, Raf?" Jack threw a pleading glance to the boy halfway through setting the table.

A few moments later had the salad, juice, and casserole safely on the table. Hands free, Jack turned and shoved Miko lightly. She rocked slightly onto one leg under the playful push before returning with a punch. Raf grinned a little as he returned to placing knives and forks in their proper place.

"Ow! Geez! I was teasing!"

"So was I," Miko threw her hands up in innocence.

"Hey… do I have to separate you too?" June said, cutting off Jack's reply with a smile as she walked in. She set down the garlic bread on the table and took a seat. "Thank you for helping me set the table."

"Thank you for the meal, Mrs. Darby."

"It's looks a lot better than what my host parents usually cook."

"I'm glad it's not tofu."

June swatted Jack's shoulder for the tease, and he glanced over at Miko, "See. You _swat_ someone when teasing. Not punch. You picked up way too much from the Wreckers."

Miko punched him again.

Snickers and smiles were hard to keep hidden around that table. It felt a little like home.

* * *

"How's Miko?"

Bulkhead paused along the cliff side, "Well, she'd have started school five days ago, so probably bored."

"And how are you?" the intention behind Wheeljack's question was clear.

"Definitely miss her."

From behind on the cliff side pass, Jackie threw a punch that connected with Bulkhead's shoulder, "Hey, she'll be fine. The gal's a firecracker, a regular Wrecker."

"I'm sure. You know Jackie, one thing that's helped it that I've got a gut feeling that I'll see her again."

Wheeljack grinned, "Of course you will. Wreckers don't give up on each other."

"One of us did." Bulkhead's walk grew a little stiffer and steel tightened his tone. Wheeljack felt the same hatred creep up his spine.

"Yeah, you told me that slagger was here."

"He'd better stay away from Miko."

The growl in Bulkhead's voice gave Wheeljack pause. He stopped for a moment, watching Bulkhead walk ahead. Bulk was a Wrecker to be sure, but he was always the softie of the team. The last thing Wheeljack wanted was to see him snap, even if the Con on the receiving end was more than deserving. He jogged a few steps to catch up, "Breakdown's not focused enough to hunt her down. And she'd be able to handle any Con tossed her way."

Bulkhead gave no reply.

Farther up the pass, the cliff side gave way to a fair-sized cave. Flicking on headlights, the two stepped in, eying the dimensions. It looked to have Jackhammer capacity, if it was deep enough. They began walking, looking for the back side.

"The commander seemed fairly on edge."

Like their footsteps, Wheeljack's voice echoed from across the cave as the two Wreckers walked along either wall. Bulkhead sighed.

"He's been on edge since the base was lost. He's also kept us on a very tight leash… which isn't like him." he added quickly, defensively.

"Relax, Bulk. I know he isn't like the other generals. Which is why his edginess is starting to bother me."

"It's bothering us all."

* * *

There had been no conversation on the patrol. Arcee felt Bee's helplessness at the situation, and was frustrated at herself for causing the kid worry. A number of times she clicked on her comlink, only to find she had nothing to say. So they continued on in silence until Bee whispered something over his own comm.

_I miss Raf_

Arcee pinged back, "I miss Jack."

_At least they're safe_

A hint of uncertainty underlined the tone, the type that looked for reassurance. Violet optics flashed in Arcee's mind, fangs pulling into a smile. Under her breath she prayed to whatever power Primus may have that the rogue Con had lost interest in Jack.

"Yeah. They're safe."

_Do you remember the looks they gave us when we left?_

Arcee revved her engine a little louder than necessary to pull round a collection of boulders.

Yes.

* * *

Table was cleared, plates and cups stacked neatly into the dishwasher. Jack walked Miko, Raf, and his mom to the front door. Teasing and joking slid away as they reached the threshold. The door cracked open onto their driveway. June, pulling the keys out from her purse walked to the driver's side of the car and unlocked it. She glanced up to see the three kids still inside, toeing the threshold.

Miko took a breath and looked down at Raf. When he at last made eye contact, she held out her hand and smiled. He took it. Together they stepped out.

_Eleven days ago, out from the groundbridge Jack, Miko, and Raf had stepped just outside of Jasper. Not one of them said a word. They brought Raf home first, before the sun had completely set. There was no hug, no goodbye, not even one last bit of eye contact. Raf just walked through the door and into his house._

_ Miko was dropped off next. Before going into her host parent's house, her home for both last year and the next, she turned, met eyes with Jack and looked desperately as if she wanted to say something. But Jack felt that his own eyes were empty, and Miko must have seen it, because after a friendly punch to the shoulder and a forced smile, she too walked into the house without a word._

_ It was dark by the time Jack got home, and a light was still on in the kitchen. He stepped through the front door, shoes hitting tiles. He reached the kitchen and June's disapproving glare, along with the curfew scold that was on her lips, vanished. She left her tea and rushed to embrace him._

Miko and Raf paused and turned to wave a goodbye to Jack. He waved back, watching them get in the car, watching the car pull out, watching them drive down the road to their homes. Once they were out of sight, he closed the door.

_"Jack, what's wrong?"_

_ He hadn't responded to her hug, but the moment she said those words, he clutched at June and began to cry. His pride rose up a little to tell him to stop, but those thoughts were drowned out._

_ Once he had his breath back, Jack began to tell his mom everything. MECH, the knock-off of Optimus, the tribunal. Blame and accusation also began to flow in no coherent way, at Silas, at the government, even at the 'Bots. They had abandoned him, all of them._

_ At that, he was shoved away from the warm embrace and June gave him one quick shake at arms length, "Jackson Darby, don't you dare compare them to your father!"_

_At length she had gathered her son back into her arms and held him there._

Jack stood at the door. The memory again of a man's back as he left the house, driving away without a single glance.

They had all looked back. Arcee, Optimus. All of them.

Why couldn't he trust them?

* * *

"None of this was your fault, Optimus."

The moment the words left Ratchet's mouth, he saw the Prime tense, as if expecting an attack. Ratchet sighed, the medic in him taking over, "Get some sleep, Optimus. You're long due a recharge."

When the Prime turned to look, to meet Ratchet's optics, the medic turned cold. The blue light was desperate, pleading. Then blank. Without a word, Optimus strode towards the cave that made their shelter.

Once out of Ratchet's view, the Prime began to shake. Feeling a palm against the cave's wall, he lowered himself to the ground. His body pleaded with him to recharge. His mind shied away. How could he rest when his dreams were haunted by a grey beast who systematically slaughtered all he cared for?

How could he sleep when there, Megatron waited for him?

* * *

_The grey beast had stopped fleeing, turning to wait and mock him. The fog gave way to clear ground. He knew the exact distance to the beast. This time, he could make it. He would. Two bound beings collapsed in front of him, great forms of power and camaraderie. They were alive. He sheathed his sword and sprinted to them, kneeling. He reached for their bonds._

_Something shattered before him. He looked up to see small beings pouring out of the grey beast towards him and the two bound comrades. Instinctively, his sword was drawn, ready to defend. The beast sprang at him, tearing the sword from his grasp, and pining him to the ground. _

_The little beings swarmed the comrades, pulling them apart with surgical precision. Neither made a single sound. Beneath the beast, he heaved and bucked, snapping a hand forward to throttle the accursed neck. It jerked its head away and leapt away into the air. He rolled upright, to find the little beings and the comrades gone._

_There was nothing left for a fifth grave._

* * *

A/N _Fast upload! Yay! This was already partly done because it was the original Chapter 6, but it expanded. Thanks for the support even after a ridiculous hiatus. You guys are a wonderful encouragement._

_God bless and keep on creating!_


	8. Chapter 8

**(11 days since incident)**

…_There was nothing left for a fifth grave._

Optimus' optics slid open and a gear caught in his throat. Air cycled heavily through his systems, adding to the weight in his spark. He pushed himself to his feet, palm against a stalactite for support.

Outside he heard the voices of Ratchet and Wheeljack. Sounded like an argument. A few words reached his audio sensor. "Reckless" was one. "Lighten up, the kid ain't hurt" comprised a few more. A few inputs from Bumblebee sounded as if he was trying to calm Ratchet. As Optimus walked slowly towards the cave entrance, the incoming moonlight slowly pushing the nightmare to the back of his thoughts, the conversation came more clearly to him.

Ratchet had descended into low grumbles that were drowned out by Bumblebee urging Wheeljack for another go. Finally at the entrance, Optimus watched as the scout and the Wrecker slid into fighting stances. They began to circle each other, in a strange ballet. Bumblebee kept his forearms in front, a "boxing" stance as the humans would call it, staying light on his feet. The Wrecker was a little less defined. As far as Optimus could tell, his movements were like a more brutal form of the human martial arts, as if someone thought that jujitsu and brawling were a good combination.

This bizarre marriage of combat sent young Bumblebee reeling more than once, prompting Ratchet to wince at the medical implications and nearly prompting Optimus to step in and void the duel. Each time, he kept silent, watching the scout pick himself up, or in some cases, roll from Wheeljack's attempt to end the fight. Bumblebee always came up ready, and never was struck down by the same blow twice.

The youngest of the Autobots. Barely stepping out of childhood and already a soldier. Optimus missed Rafael more than anything in that moment. Even as his scout was growing up, the boy gave him something. Rafael had given Bumblebee the childhood and the voice that Megatron had stolen from him, and in returning what was stolen, Bumblebee had become a better soldier.

Tossed to the ground again, Bumblebee sprang up and to the side in anticipation of the Wrecker's cheap shot. None came. Wheeljack had taken a step back and held out a hand. As they shook, he gave a loud slap to the scout's back, "You're alright, kid. No Wrecker, but you've got spunk."

"Hm, yes. Plenty. Now get over here."

Obedient to Ratchet's insistence, the scout made his way to the medic, pausing briefly at the sight of Optimus watching. The look in the optics slipped a stab of guilt into the Prime's spark. It was a look seeking approval.

Bumblebee had to pass the entrance of the cave to reach Ratchet, and as he did so, Optimus fell in step, "I was impressed, Bumblebee. You handled yourself well."

Everything in the scout's step changed. His shoulders and back became straighter and the doors on his back lifted a little higher.

"And with a level of idiocy," Ratchet said, grumbling as they reached him. "Sparring with Wheeljack of all 'Bots."

The chiding and caustic remarks did nothing to change the scout's stance. It was if the Prime's hand on his shoulder was a ward against any doubts.

Optimus glanced over to the remaining three Autobots, as Arcee joined the Wreckers for casual conversation. The group made an odd trio. Two massive and one petite, warriors three. A few more moments and it seemed the conversation altered into tips on landing blows as each began demonstrating in turn.

Dreams were dreams. Haunting and invasive, but dreams.

His family was built of soldiers.

* * *

**(14 days since incident)**

Prison did not suit a soldier.

Bill Fowler stared at the walls. They were smaller than the _Nemesis_, giving a more encased aura than that feeling of insignificance. It was a strange comfort to be enclosed in a space that neared claustrophobic, but it kept away images of red eyes looming over him with a leer. Unfortunately it was same for images of blue optics of comrades.

Footsteps echoed towards his cell, halting as pressed slacks came to stop before the bars.

"Last chance, Bill."

Fowler did not rise from his seat as he regarded Bryce. "Remember that one time our plane went down beyond enemy lines? It was when we had that new pilot. That howling mad pilot who landed us right in the middle of the terrorist camp. I and Murdock were lucky enough to slide into some cover. You were snagged right off the bat."

"We're heading to Jasper."

"They gave you the whole workout. By the time we got you out of there, you looked ready to be sent down in a hand basket, but all they got was name, rank, and serial."

Bryce paused, waiting for Bill to finish.

"And now you're asking another Army Ranger to spill on comrades."

"On terrorists."

"And on civilians."

Grim lines in one face matched another across the barred wall between them.

The civilians' involvement was your fault; Bryce's quick tug to straighten his shirt and the quiet clearing of the throat made it clear what he was thinking. Bill supposed he was right to some extent. He had been on the brink of reporting the kids when Soundwave's pet showed – funny how his thoughts kept going back there – but he never followed through. Now it was something that he wasn't planning on telling. It was something Bryce could easily read in the silence.

With a sigh that raised the nicely ironed shoulders of his uniform, Bryce turned from the cell. As his footsteps echoed back to Bill, he made a simple reply that stirred unease in the former special agent.

"Well, you have already given us three leads. Contrary to what you may believe, Bill, I _was_ listening at the tribunal. 'Computer science. Communication. Medicine.'"

* * *

"How are the wheels?"

Cautious hands ran over the rims next to the seat. Squatting next to the young girl, June smiled at her. The small patient looked up at her and tried to return the smile.

"Don't worry. You'll be out of the wheelchair in a few weeks. For the moment, it's your friend. Why don't you think of it… like a guardian?"

The little brow furrowed at the suggestion. June gestured down at the casts on both legs of the girl. "These legs will have to be protected until they're better, right?"

A nod.

"So the wheelchair is the guardian for your legs until you're strong enough to stand on your own."

The girl's exit from the hospital carried a confident smile from the small patient, and heralded the entrance of four men in blazers. The latter saw June's brow turn from a kind farewell to a suspicious inspection. The first of the men approached Carol's desk, requesting to see the hospital's head. An explanation of the busy schedule died on the receptionist's lips as an official badge was displayed on her desk.

Outside, a fifth man had passed the wheelchaired girl and parents, and was taking a clear interest in the vehicles. June's heart began to skip out of rhythm. She turned and tried to make her way back out of the lobby as inconspicuously as possible.

Doors closed between her and the men. Her feet clacked down the hallway with a speed she fought to keep constant. Under her breath was one prayer.

_Don't check the school._

* * *

"You cannot cancel out the numbers operated on by the sine function! Sine of '2a' over sine of 'a' does not equal sine of '2!'"

Jack was not among the students who had committed the carnal sin on the homework, but he was not exempt from the teacher's glare as she said "This isn't algebra any more, kids! You can't go cancelling out every similar thing willy-nilly."

"Did she honestly just say 'willy-nilly?'" Sierra's whisper came from the side of her mouth. "My _grandma_ doesn't say that anymore."

It almost sounded like something Ratchet would say. Jack tested the words against the voice in his head and found a match. At the thought, he felt himself growing angry again and found himself biting his own tongue. This wasn't his father any more. And he was more than an abandoned boy. He couldn't compare everyone who left to him in a willy-nilly fashion.

"Jack? The bell has rung. Freedom beckons."

He refocused to an emptying classroom and Sierra waiting by his desk. Pulling his things together, he stood and made for the door. Sierra meandered with him; they were the last two to leaving the fuming teacher behind. Over the threshold, into the hall they stepped. Sierra began to ask something about Miko, but Jack was not listening.

The moment they left the classroom, swearing and "oh my gosh!" reached his ears. A group had gathered around a section of the hallway from whence sounds of violence rose.

Trigonometry toppled to the floor, text book on a broken spine and scattered papers. Sierra was left standing, unanswered next to the mess.

Jack shoved through the crowd; variations of whispered "someone call a teacher," "oh no," and "stop it…" floated up in the air around him, but not a single one closed the circle. A ginger head jerked around through the sea of shoulders clouding Jack's vision. Vince's sneering voice overrode any well-meaning murmurs.

"Still think you're brave? Still think you can mess with me?"

Punches resounding changed the questions to exclamations.

Jack at last burst through the crowd of peers, hands outstretched already, fingers cocked in fury. Vince had no time to react as loser Darby tackled him off the bespectacled middle schooler and into the lockers.

The ginger head smacked against the metal, clearly dizzying him. Jack felt him slump under his grasp and decided to help Vince downwards with a shove. One hand on the collar, another cocked back in the air, fingers curling into a fist. The scumbag was already down for the count, but that wasn't enough. He swung.

"_Jack_!"

The teen's head snapped about, heart racing, to see Raf standing up, black eye where his glasses should be. Between the two boys stood Miko, fists at the ready to provide another layer of defense. Jack glanced back at Vince. There was no sneer left his face; everything pointed towards fear.

Fingers uncurled from a fist, only halfway into the blow. Fingers uncurled from around the shirt collar. Without another glance back to the ginger, Jack knelt and picked up broken glasses. He handed them to Miko and said, "Get him to the nurse's."

As Miko turned to leave, one hand on Raf's shoulder, so did the crowd.

"No one else leave."

Jack's voice had an authority that had never been heard before. Even Vince froze against the lockers in the midst of his escape. Miko glanced back before disappearing into the crowd and gave a wink, earning her an unseen cheerleader's glare. Jack saw neither the wink nor the glare. What he did see, however, he rapidly gave voice to, every word coming from a burning in his chest.

"I count at least twenty, maybe thirty of you. Who stepped in? Who called for help? If one young boy," Jack gestured to where Raf had vanished into the crowd, "can stand up to a bully, what prevented you? One day I'd like to say I was proud to be counted among your number," he now glanced at Vince, "even counted alongside you. But you have a long way to go."

The crowd parted for Jack as he made for his spilled trigonometry. The bell rang for the next class. Everyone departed in silence. Not even Sierra moved towards him, but rather took the quickest route away.

Inside Jack's chest his anger was abating, but his heart did not slow. It was not Raf's voice that had stopped his cold blow against Vince. It was not Miko's – not that she ever stop that type of thing. It was a memory. A memory of a voice that simultaneously carried gravitas and warmth.

* * *

End of the day saw Jack walking Raf home before work. As Miko walked the other way, _into_ the school, she was continually aware of the silence. Only a few murmurs were among the students. The event had spread like wildfire, and Jack's words had raced right along with.

Few words caught her ear. "Who does he think he is," was a common one, sometimes utterly serious, but other times with a level of guilt. Miko wanted to grin and say "The only one who's gone to a new planet, that's who!"

Of course she never said anything, but that was because she couldn't entirely blame them either. Jack was consistently getting accolades from the Autobots – Optimus especially – and even Megatron. Who was he?

Miko's hands found their way into pockets as her shoulders hunched forward. Raf too; always the technical support. Again, even Megatron acknowledged him. But her? Only time she got recognized was when there was rescuing to be done, and it was usually her that needed it. Who was she?

Insignificance piled on her shoulders further as she reached the science classroom. Her teacher had gotten wise and caught onto her lack of attention. Hello old friend, detention. As Miko pushed open the door, Mr. Peterson stood from his place behind the boulder.

"Observation, Miss Nakadai, is key in science. For instance," he said, walking over to her. "I observe you rolling your eyes at me. I'm sure plenty of other teachers have had the same. Now it's your turn."

A clipboard was handed to her, and Miko did not attempt to correct "the rolling eyes" comment. She simply accepted it in silence, faintly listened to him explain that he expected her to write out twenty-five observations about the boulder – oh heaven help – before the hour of detention was up. Then out the door he went and Miko was left alone.

Shoulders still sunken in questions of self-worth, she took a few steps closer to the boulder, and sat down with her back to it. She drew her knees up to her chest and turned her head to glare at the rock, "What makes you so special?"

True to Wrecker fashion, her frustration was revealed with violence. With a backhand swipe, she hit the boulder with the clipboard's side. Dust coughed out from the crevices, but at this point Miko didn't care. Until a gleam of color caught her eye in the shades of brown and grey.

She reached out a finger to trace a vein through the rock. Tears forgotten, her eyes became as bright as the blue energon that wove its way through the layers.

* * *

The Scrap Metal Set was back. Why was it always these Eradicons? Didn't Dreadwing have anyone else to beat into slag?

Knock Out did have to grudgingly admit, however, that each consecutive time, the scars and dents were fewer and more shallow. Some of them this time around were simply scratched paint, which in some cases did wonders for the look; some Cybertronians could pull off the rugged design. On the other hand, some of them did have quite some deep scarring. This designation, 67-V4, jet must have taken every single blow. A particularly unsightly wound crossed the elbow joint on the left side.

The other nineteen of the crew were waiting at the door to be sent back to their posts, and Knock Out was eager to leave the med bay as well. If he could simply slide out for an hour before tackling the synthetic energon again...

67-V4's patch was rough. The surgery was a quick and ugly procedure; the Eradicon had squirmed a little in pain throughout it, but Knock Out did not have time to coach him in and out of stasis. A quick buff hid the scar, and out the door the twenty Eradicons were sent, 67-V4 holding his arm rigidly and cradling it with his other hand.

The med bay doors shut behind them and Knock Out began to count out a whole tiring minute. With the Scrap Metal Set out the door so quickly, he'd surely have enough time to hop away on a quick little racing excursion.

Once he was certain the Eradicons had cleared the area, out the door went Knock Out as well. The hallway was clear and the medic allowed himself a little saunter as he strode down towards the groundbridge hub. The intersection ahead was nice and quiet as well. A right hand turn and Knock Out would be out in the wind with asphalt beneath his treads.

Silently, Soundwave walked down the adjoining hallway, left to right.

Saunter gone, Knock Out found himself striding at a good pace back to the medical bay. It was a good thing he got the Scrap Metal Set done so quickly. Think of all the time he could dedicate to the synthetic energon!

* * *

The treetops bent as the Jackhammer hummed in for a landing. As the ramp slid down to the ground, Arcee was the first out, drawing the attention of Optimus and Ratchet. The medic set down his tool, leaving the Prime to stabilize the most recent control panel.

"Is that what I think it is?"

Arcee grinned at the wonder in Ratchet's voice and passed it over, "Only the best for you."

Cradling the new technology in his arms, Ratchet returned to the cave's entrance, nearly cooing over the gift. Optimus passed him on the way, allowing himself an amused smile. However, the smile was tainted by worry. As he drew nearer, Arcee held up a hand, "None of it was stolen, I promise you that."

"Not for a lack of trying though," Wheeljack said, passing by with more cargo and a complaint aimed at her. She responded with giving the Prime a wink.

"Don't worry, I've got your back."

"Thank you, Arcee. We don't need to build our base from thievery."

Wheeljack made a small grumble as he passed by again with more cargo. Arcee ignored it and began to debrief the Prime: No they weren't followed. Radars stayed clear. No sign of Decepticons. Wheeljack's energon source was valid. Partway through, Arcee realized that she sounded a little like Jack trying to appease his mom when danger was around the bend.

As she concluded, Optimus thanked her and together they walked to the Jackhammer to help Bumblebee and the Wreckers. Arcee couldn't help but notice the subtle change in the Prime's complexion. Over the past few days, he had stepped back from his overprotective stance, but in exchange that helpless worry June so often carried had begun to quietly creep in. His optics especially seemed ragged, as if even recharge was no comfort to him.

* * *

_A fifth and sixth grave he dug as tribute. His hand rested on one of the loose mound of soil. He knelt with his spark oscillating between anger and sorrow, each turn more painful than the next. _

_From the corner of his vision he saw movement. Small movement belonging to the smallest being. The little child had mirrored his stance next to the first grave. After a few moments, their gazes met. It was as if the child had something to say, something important._

_But it had no voice._

_He stood and stepped over to it, kneeling again. "Where is your voice?"_

_The little hand fiddled with the soil on the first grave – that first victim of the grey beast who could voice no words. Little tears wet the earth and the little child collapsed atop of the grave, as if trying to embrace the occupant._

_To his horror, the child began to fade, sink in. He reached out to grab the child, but his hand met only dirt as the grave welcomed the little one too._

_ His hand rested only on a loose mount of soil._


	9. Chapter 9

**(3 months since incident)**

It was a box canyon of ice and snow, a gulch of cold. Outside stood two Eradicons, eying the white cliffs. The cold bit painfully at a hidden scar on one left arm, and the 'Con known as Sideways reached a hand over to cover it protectively. Next to him the other shuffled a little bit, glancing over at him now and again. Finally the shuffler seem to gather enough courage to say, "So… you're one of Dreadwing's troops."

Sideways nodded and slid his hand off his left elbow. He would not disgrace the Commander by showing any weakness.

"So… what's your designation now?"

He nearly said "67-V4," but that had changed a week ago.

* * *

_Twenty Eradicons, jets standing at attention, were in formation on the bridge. Feet together, arms at sides, vision straight ahead as Megatron paced in front of them. He stopped at the soldier next to 67-V4 and peer into the optics, leaning down to dominate the Eradicon's personal space. 67-V4 was impressed at how 117-V4 did not balk or squirm at the warlord's inspection – Commander Dreadwing had inspected them many a time but his temperament and presence was far from Megatron's._

_It took all his training to avoid flinching as great clawed fingers grasped his own chin, tilting his head this way and that. Red optics eyed every inch of his features, though they were the same as the nineteen others around him._

_Finally the powerful grip was released and Megatron took a step back, "At ease."_

_Feet shoulders-width apart, hands clasped behind their back. As 67-V4 bent it, his left elbow screamed at him. It had never been the same since Knock Out's surgery, but he considered it a boon. It taught him what the Commander had been attempting to knock into him all those training sessions – use speed, not strength, against the larger opponent. With his arm in such a condition, he could not afford to even attempt to stand his ground. As a result dodging and weaving in a fight became second nature to him._

_Megatron glanced towards the Commander, "They look no different than any other of my troops."_

* * *

Below the ice, nineteen Eradicons stood guard, marked from the miners only by the basic difference that would accompany any jet Eradicons. The miners worked hard, energon harvested efficiently, but there was an cloud of anticipation and anxiety amongst all the troops. It was only a matter of time before the sounds of blaster fire and the thrum of Autobots engines sent them all fleeing or to the pit. Experience was a sound teacher.

Megatron and Dreadwing strode through the mine, Dreadwing a step behind. Past them filed the miners to the glacier's entrance beneath the water's surface. The decoded Iacon coordinates had the _Nemesis_ circling the glacier for far longer than any crew felt was ideal. It was Soundwave who had suggested the entrance's true location.

A score of Eradicons, jet, ground, and the trained Sideways, were sent to be the watchmen on the gulch's walls, while the rest dove with the Nemesis beneath the waves. Megatron wanted to witness the performance of Dreadwing's soldiers personally.

* * *

_"It is not their appearance that has changed, my liege, but their skill."_

_"Well then... Trooper. Defend yourself."_

_Megatron moved fast, his quickness was belied by his size. His target, 117-V4, sidestepped and backed away. 67-V4 along with the rest cleared the area as the warlord and minion circled each other._

_"Impressive evasion, but surely Dreadwing you have taught them the relationship between a good defense and offense…"_

_The Eradicon responded with a swift transformation of an arm to a blaster, and two quick shots. Lunging forward, Megatron threw a backhand towards the trooper. Again, evasion, followed by a blow to the warlord's head. The strike connected._

_Then 117-V4 was on the ground. 67-V4 hadn't seen it happen; it was too fast._

_Strangely, neither Dreadwing nor Megatron looked too disappointed._

_"Again, impressive."_

_117-V4 was sent back to join the rest and another trooper was selected. Twelve times, Megatron toyed with the soldier as Dreadwing watched. Once the Eradicon landed a blow or two, they were swiftly taken down, and another selected._

_Thirteenth was 67-V4._

_The toying was nothing dissimilar to what he had watch the last twelve times. It wasn't light years away from fighting with the Commander or with his fellow Eradicons. That didn't keep it from being _frightening_._

_Again, all his training, his devotion to this second nature, came into play as he dodged, wove and slid around Megatron's blows. He had yet to land one of his own, and his left elbow throbbed harder, but he saw his opening coming as a fist streaked towards him. 67-V4 sidestepped sent a strike to the helmet. _

_The warlord's fist changed directions._

_Too fast to avoid, 67-V4 threw up his left arm to block the descending fist. Even as the warlord was holding back, the strike destroyed his arm._

_A shuddering snap and a few spark-stopping pops. Metal sheared from metal and wires pulled apart. Before startled optics, 67-V4 crumpled to the ground in pain._

* * *

It did not take Commander Dreadwing long to realize on whose shoulders the responsibility lay. Nor did it take long for Lord Megatron to know it either. It took even less time for Knock Out to descend into panic over it.

Megatron seemed more furious about the sheer laziness of the medic, while Dreadwing's concern went to his soldier. It took a great deal of discussion between the Decepticon warlord and Commander before 67-V4 was officially granted a position among Dreadwing's force and a name. Despite Knock Out's faults, Megatron still placed the failure to perform adequately on 67-V4, now Sideways', shoulders.

And so he was out here, in the middle of a cold box canyon with the Eradicon 573-V3. A watchdog. Watching nothing.

Sideways paused in his bitterness. Seriously. It had been an hour since the Nemesis had so blatantly circled the glacier. Where were the Autobots?

* * *

"I must say, Dreadwing. I am looking forward to your force's performance against Prime's team," Megatron watched the miners work at the energon and Dreadwing could catch a bit of impatience in his voice.

"While I doubt any one-on-one confrontation will end in our favor, my liege, they are trained to work in tandem," Dreadwing replied, trying to hide that he shared in the impatience.

* * *

Two hours now. Despite his training, Sideways began to shuffle as uncomfortably as 573-V3. Two hours.

* * *

Megatron watched as another load entered the _Nemesis._ It too, was uncontested. Optics narrowed, he cast his gaze back and forth across the mine. Soundwave. Optimus. They two mechs he could always count on.

So where was the Prime?

* * *

Three hours. Sideways was beginning to worry that his internal chronometer was faulty.

* * *

The last cube of energon vanished from the ice. Dreadwing had never seen his lord more bewildered in all his life.

* * *

_Five hours!_

Sideways and 573-V3 stared blankly out into the empty, Autobot-less ice and snow. 573-V3 shuffled his feet once more. He suddenly turned his head to Sideways.

"Hey."

Sideways turned to acknowledge him.

"Ever wonder why we're here?"

* * *

_"I sometimes wonder why I'm here."_

_He was far from the graves, searching for the grey beast. It was the little voice that stopped him: a third small being. He stopped and knelt next to it._

_"Do I do any good? At all?"_

_The voice sounded so pained, so broken._

_"Of course you do," he said. He held out his hand. The little being stepped onto it. "You can help me right now."_

_A smile met him and the little being sat down and curled up in the palm of his hand. A little bit of hope gathered in him._

_Now to find the beast._

* * *

A/N _Thank you guys so much for the views and reviews. It's a huge blessing to know that this story is - in turn - a blessing to you guys! Keep on creating!_


End file.
